Over the Edge
by abbytherat
Summary: He's withstood every horror life's thrown at him, but even the toughest spirits have a breaking point.  What could happen to finally push Vincent over the edge?  And what's waiting on the other side?  No one's going to see this coming.
1. Chapter 1

**FFVII and the characters? Alas, I own them not.**

**This is my first Fanfic. It's just one of those little what ifs that you can't resist playing with.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

She shifted in her chair, trying to get into the least comfortable position. Still it was difficult to keep her eyes from closing or her head from nodding. Even as she thought about not falling asleep her body began to relax and her mind drift.

A low moan caused her to snap up. She clasped her hands in her lap and postured her back as straight as it could go. Over on the bed her charge weakly shifted to his left. His clawed arm tossed off the red cape that had partly wrapped around him. The girl watched him tensely until his breathing slowed again to its unconscious rhythm.

She sighed and relaxed a little. She had been watching him like this since they got back the evening before. For the most part he had just lain there as though dead, but now and then he would cry out and thrash, trapped in his nightmares. Twice he started thrashing so violently she had to call the others to hold him down. She couldn't blame him after what he went through, but she didn't want to watch that again.

The girl could feel exhaustion settling back in. Dreading the thought that her charge could throw another fit or wake up while she slept, she had refused to nod off for almost two days. Now the red sky outside the window told her it was almost her second night. The thought of asking someone else to take her duties had crossed her mind but the others were still recovering from the fight. They had risked their lives while she watched. The least she could do was let them rest…

She couldn't deny it any more though. She needed to sleep. Cursing her weak little body she told herself she would last the night and get someone else to take her post in the morning.

"You must stay awake," she whispered to herself, "they're counting on you." Even as she said it she started to fade. "Stay awake," she said inside her mind, but the room merely flickered and went out.

The yelp she assumed was part of her dream…until she realized that her dream was just a hazy void on the edge of consciousness into which the sound had penetrated. Her eyes didn't want to open. Her head didn't want to move. She just listened.

The room was so quite that she could hear the pulse in her ears. The gentle beat had almost lulled her back to sleep when there came another sound, this one loud and sharp enough to make her spring to her feet. She could still hear the surreal tinkling that can only be falling glass. It was followed by a heavy thud and a series of shuffling noises.

She wanted to find out what had made the noises but she was more concerned about her friend in the bed. She made her way through the darkness to the red numbers on the alarm clock. When she reached the desk she felt around and clicked on the lamp. Her heart dropped into her stomach.

The quilt on the bed had been gently removed and all that remained of the man she was supposed to be watching was an indent in the mattress. Not far beyond the footboard and the light there was something red on the floor. The girl ran over to it, fearing her charge might have collapsed. When she got to it and picked it up she realized it was just his cape.

A flash caught her eye and when she looked up she saw that the door to the bathroom was open. She walked over to it and strained her eyes into the shadows. She couldn't see much but she could hear fast, gravelly, heavy breathing…like the sound of a large animal that had narrowly evaded a predator. She wasn't afraid, not for herself. She had been raised in darkness and terrible noises. Her fear was for her friend and what could make him sound like that.

She reached inside the doorframe and found the light. The mirror above the sink was completely smashed, the pieces fallen amongst the toiletries and onto the floor. The noise was coming from her friend who was pressing himself into the corner by the tub.

There was more glass and a few drops of blood on the floor next to him. The way he had curled up with his arms tucked tightly to his chest she couldn't see how he was injured. His shoulders heaved with every breath but she couldn't tell if he was conscious. When the light had come on he shifted more towards the tub, away from the glare, but that could just be a reflex. The way his hair had fallen in his face meant there was no telling if his eyes were open…

There was no helping it; she had to see if he was awake. "Vincent Valentine," she ventured in the monotone she tried so hard to suppress. At the sound of his name Vincent tensed even more into the corner. He looked like he wanted to sink through the wall.

Without his cape he looked small and thin. It broke the girl's heart to see him in such a pitiful state, although she wasn't surprised by it.

She wanted to rush in there and help him but she knew better. She had seen him lose control before and if he did that new there would be nothing she, in her little body, could do. Even if he didn't transform…even if he just lashed out or threw another fit, it would take all the strength of the others to keep him from hurting himself and anyone else. She didn't know what time it was but she would have to wake them.

Every instinct she had was telling her to stay with her friend. She ignored them and left the room.

Almost as soon she entered the hallway the door next to hers opened and a very bed-headed, grouchy looking Yuffie poked her head out.

"Shelke?" she grumbled. "What's with all the crashing?" The ninja's eyes were heavy squints and she rubbed sleep from one with a knuckle as she peered at the smaller girl.

"Vincent's awake," Shelke told her.

"Really?" Yuffie gave a big yawn. "That's great. How's he doing?"

This nonchalant statement startled Shelke. Yuffie had been almost sick with worry for Vincent over the last few months and now she sounded like she didn't care. Shelke realized she was obviously still half asleep. It was time to wake her up.

"He smashed the mirror in the bathroom," Shelke said flatly. "He is on the floor now and he is bleeding."

It worked. Yuffie's eyes opened all the way and she yelled, "WHAT!?" She checked herself and asked a little more softly, "What happened?"

Shelke shook her head. "I do not know. I think he might be loosing control and I am not messing with him when he is like that." Yuffie was giving her a look that would be at home on a wounded puppy. "Keep and eye on him," Shelke continued, "and do not let him leave the room."

Shelke started running down the hall. "Wait, where are you going?" Yuffie called after her.

"I am going to get Cloud and Tiffa…


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1 was pretty good, but Chapter 2's where it's at!**

**I don't own the FFVII Characters. I just like messing with their heads!**

**Hope you enjoy!**

Tifa was frightened. She was ashamed that she should feel that way, but still…she was frightened.

She looked around the room and her eyes rested on Yuffie. Yuffie was standing there in her Moogle pajamas and her fuzzy slippers, nervously rubbing her arms as though she was cold. She had gotten too close to Vincent, who growled at her. She just wasn't that good at the whole 'comforting' thing. Plus she had actually gotten attacked during the battle and still sported a few bandages to prove it. Poor thing was still shaken up about that.

Shelke looked like she really wanted to go in there. She shifted uncomfortably and looked up at Tifa. That face told Tifa she wanted more than anything to help. Shelke knew better than to risk it though. They all knew better than to let her…

Cloud was still injured. He was only wearing pajama bottoms as his upper body was covered in various bandages and gauzes. His right arm rested in a sling. Tifa had tried to use potions and Cure on him, but to little effect. For some strange reason the wounds were determined to heal normally. It was just lucky Cloud was so tough.

Tifa probably would have given Cloud a hard time had he wanted to do it, but part of her wanted to let him take the responsibility. Unfortunately his sour expression betrayed his reluctance. He was leery of putting his broken body in any more danger until it healed.

Tifa sighed. "I guess I have to do it," she thought to herself. She tightened her black terrycloth nightgown, strengthened her resolve, and went into the bathroom.

Vincent hadn't moved, but he was no longer hugging himself. Instead he was absently pulling on the metal parts of his claw. Tifa always wondered about that thing. She assumed it was a gauntlet, but had never seen him take it off. Now that he was trying to, it looked like it was stuck.

She wasn't watching where she was stepping and accidentally put a slippered foot down on some of the mirror. The audible crunch caused Vincent to stop moving. His head shifted a little in her direction. She froze, holding her breath.

Vincent very slowly drew his knees up to his chest and cringed away from her. Taking care not to make any sudden movements or step on any more glass, Tifa approached him. "Leave me alone," he mumbled. She squatted down and reached out a hand to place on his shoulder. As soon as she did this he jerked as far away from her as he could get without climbing into the bathtub. He also started making the growling noise that had frightened Yuffie. Tifa hesitated for a moment, but she realized that, with his gravelly voice, this was Vincent's version of hyperventilating.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said as she gently laid her hand on him. Vincent hissed in a breath and shuddered. She could feel that the muscles beneath his leather clothing were taught like springs and she had to calm him down before the tension let go.

Cautiously Tifa placed her right hand on Vincent's arm and slipped her left arm around his back. She put her face into his mane of black hair and whispered into his ear. "It's alright," she cooed, "You're safe now. No one's going to hurt you."

"No…no," Vincent whimpered under each breath. "No…no…no…"

Tifa thought of some vague memory from her childhood, something that had worked on her when she was upset. "Shhhh," she whispered while gently rubbing his back. "Shhhh…." She prayed that this would work on the grown man as well as it had on a little girl.

He stopped repeating "no" and just sat there, silently breathing. "Shhhh," she continued. His body was shaking and drenched in cold sweat. Tifa was afraid she might make it worse, but she kept trying.

Shelke and Yuffie, seeing the change, had started crowding into the room. Noticing this, Tifa put her hand up, signaling them to stay back. She still didn't know how this was going to turn out and she didn't need everyone getting hurt at once.

In the moment Tifa was looking away Vincent groaned and sat forward. She finally knew where the blood on the floor had come from. When he used his right had to cover his face she noticed a large chunk of mirror sticking out of it. She made a tutting noise and gently took his hand to get a better look. Vincent allowed it to be taken and raised his head up, looking around with an expression of dazed disorientation.

All the energy built up in his body was bleeding away.

"Vincent?" Tifa uttered. Vincent turned his head towards her without looking her in her face. Still holding his injured hand she said, "Let's get this looked after, alright?" He nodded his head slightly…agreement.

Vincent put his legs underneath himself and started getting up. He seemed pretty wobbly so Tifa held onto him. She was relieved to find he could walk pretty much OK and steered him out to the kitchen. There was a small table pushed to the wall that was her personal dinning area (She only ate in the bar when it was closed). She sat him down in one of the chairs there and started hunting through the many cabinets for a first-aid kit.

Tifa sat down across from Vincent. She let out a deep breath, gave him a smile, and said, "Can I see your hand?"

Vincent was staring into his lap. Without looking up he lifted his left arm and dropped his claw with a heavy 'chunk' onto the table. Tifa's smile faltered. This wasn't the hand she meant.

She supposed he was showing her an injury she was unaware of so she took the claw and looked it over. She suddenly felt her face get hot and a disgusted lurch in her stomach.

She had never looked that closely at it, but on this inspection she found that what she had assumed was just a piece of armor, or maybe a melee weapon, was actually Vincent's flesh and bone.

They were hard to see but there were scars along the sides of each finger and the whole hand that looked like the seams of a glove. She traced her finger along one to make sure that wasn't what it was. No…they were definitely scars. They marked where the strange black skin had been stitched together. She examined the brass talon on his index finger. As far as she could tell it actually protruded from his flesh. She could feel it under the skin as well and determined that the bits of metal where grafted to his very bones.

Tifa felt up and down the areas not covered by metal. There were no lacerations or broken bones. She placed the claw back down and patted it gingerly. "Looks like it's fine," she said cheerfully. "Can I see the other one now?"

Vincent started, his gaze meeting Tifa's for the first time. Tifa realized how different those crimson eyes looked to what she was used to. Normally they looked sharp and calculating…cold, expressionless voids. They had always made her think of shuttered windows. Who knows what was going behind them.

His eyes were now bright and glossy, like he was close to tears. They were full of confusion and fear. His face spoke of this as well. It had actually managed to get paler, and there were dark bags beneath his eyes. His skin looked completely clammy.

Tifa kept smiling. It was important to show him that everything was all right.

Vincent dragged the claw towards him and let it flop limply to his side. He raised his right hand and looked it over. He hadn't actually noticed the piece of glass jammed into it.

"You going to let me fix it?" Tifa asked in an artificially cheerful voice.

Vincent reluctantly set it on the table and Tifa immediately went to work. She took a pair of tweezers and a gauze out of the first-aid kit. "Now, hold still," she warned as she took hold of the glass with the tweezers. She held the gauze ready in her other hand as she carefully pulled it out. She was shocked by how easily it came and how deep it had gone in. Two thirds of the shard's length was covered in blood, meaning two thirds of it had been buried in Vincent's flesh.

The wound started bleeding a little. It was less than Tifa expected…but still. She placed the gauze over it and put some pressure. She could see there were other lacerations under the glove. With her other hand she undid the three buckles on his forearm and, taking the gauze away for a moment, carefully slid the whole thing off.

There were a couple more cuts, only one more piece of glass to remove, and the bleeding had pretty much stopped. Vincent's brow was furrowed with concentration. Tifa could tell he was in pain, yet he had stared unfeelingly at what she was doing. She had to do something to close the wounds.

Tifa thought about using Cure, but that was no good. She had used up every ounce of magic she had trying to heal Cloud. She was exhausted and hadn't had enough rest yet. If she tried using magic now it wouldn't have much effect and she'd probably pass out.

Instead she dug though the first-aid kit and found an old, but still good bottle of potion.

She looked around the room. Yuffie was sitting on a counter yawning and trying to keep her eyes open. Cloud was standing near by, his arms crossed despite the sling. Tifa turned to him and said, "Could you hand me one of those clean cloths there?" She pointed in the right direction.

Cloud moved to find the cloths she was talking about. While he was doing that Shelke came into the kitchen carrying a garbage bag that was making a chinking noise as she walked. "I cleaned the mess in the bathroom," she said very matter-of-factly. Tifa smiled and thanked her.

Cloud handed Tifa the cloth she had asked for. She opened the potion and poured an ample amount of the noxious liquid onto it. "This might sting a little," she warned.

Vincent closed his eyes and turned his head away when she placed the cloth on his skin. Tifa held it there, letting it soak in. After about a minute she took it away and inspected the effect. She was a little disappointed to see that the wounds hadn't closed completely. The potion was too old, but it was all she had left.

Making a mental note to go into town and buy more potions tomorrow, Tifa started to wrap bandages around Vincent's hand. Finally she was done. "There, all better," she piped as she gave him his mended appendage back.

Vincent slipped it into his lap and stared at it. He lifted his claw a little and looked at it, then up at Tifa. "Why are you acting so kind?" He asked her.

Tifa was a little disturbed that he should be asking something like that. Plus his voice sounded so odd. "We're your friends," she said like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

Vincent let his eyes drift was he fell deep in thought. "My friends?"

Tifa didn't like that tone. It was full of confusion and doubt. "He blames us," was what entered her mind. Of course he blamed them, why shouldn't he? They were the ones who had forced him to go on that mission. If only they hadn't thought, "It's Vincent, he can take care of himself," when he had gone missing. If only they hadn't taken _so damn long_…

No, she knew Vincent. That's not how he would look at it. Besides, his face wasn't angry, it was sad and confused. A new possibility came to her. "He thinks we blame him. He think we should hate him now."

Tifa got up and went over to him. She put a hand on his shoulder so he would look up at her and she gave him her kindest of smiles. "That's right. We're your friends."

Vincent's expression got very strange then. "But…but I don't know you," he said in an unbelieving tone. He looked swiftly around at everyone else in the room. They were all staring at him. "I don't know any of you!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Why did Square have to come up with the FFVII characters? They should be MINE!!! sobs into her pillow**

**Wondering exactly how far gone Vincent is? Read on to find out.**

**Hope you enjoy**

"What's wrong with you? It's us!" Tifa still had one hand on Vincent's shoulder. She reached down to take his hand with her other, but he jerked it out of reach and leant away from her. He gave her a cold stare that was nothing like his usual cold stares. Normally his stares said, "I'm Vincent and I'm serious." This one said, "Get the hell off me you creep!"

Chilled by that frigid gaze, Tifa moved back a little. She kept her hand on his shoulder though. She wasn't about to back down completely.

Tifa looked to see how the others had reacted.

The sleepy Yuffie was finally fully awake. She was still sitting on the counter, but her hands were clamped over her mouth and her eyes were so wide it looked like her brain was trying to force them from her head.

Shelke was standing to Vincent's left…just standing. She had fallen into her old habit of showing no emotion whatsoever.

Cloud looked as worried as Tifa felt. His arms were no longer crossed, and the glazed, doped look he had worn since the battle was gone. He was frowning and his eyebrows were slightly puckered together. His eyes were wider than they normally went (though nowhere near as wide as Yuffie's).

Tifa looked back at Vincent. He was still glaring at her for touching him. "You don't remember us?"

"I don't _know_ you!" he snapped.

Cloud sat down in the chair Tifa had vacated. Vincent's eye darted to him and he could see all the anger and frustration written there.

Vincent's shoulders were hunched, his bandaged hand was gripping his right arm so tightly the knuckles were white, and his eyes were narrowed to tiny pinpricks. It was definitely a look that didn't suite him.

"What do you remember?" Cloud inquired.

"My name…" Vincent stopped. His angry expression disappeared as his mind drifted inwards. It looked like his entire memory was lost…then he went on.

"My name is Vincent Valentine…"

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. He knew who he was. Then they realized he was still talking.

"…I'm a Turk. I work for Shinra Manufacturing."

Their relief visibly melted. A loud 'thud' and an 'ouch' caught them all off guard. Hearing Vincent's statement, Yuffie had promptly leapt off the counter only to bang her head on the overhanging cabinet and fall over. "It's alright! I'm OK!" she announced as she got up. She realized that everyone was looking at her and remembered how serious the situation was. Gasping, her eyes widened and her hands covered her mouth once more.

"Her mind is trying to escape," is what floated though Tifa's thoughts just then. She coughed into her fist to hide her snicker.

Vincent met Cloud's eyes with more determination. "I'm currently posted at the Shinra Mansion in Nibelheim, guarding the scientists Dr Hojo and Dr…Crescent…" His voice trailed off as he recalled something very important. "Lucrecia…" he whispered.

He leaned forward, putting his hand on the table. "Lucrec…Dr Crescent is gravely ill. Where are we right now?" He looked around, eyes wide with urgency. No one answered him. In fact, no one in that room would even make eye contact. "She's sick! I need to get back to Nibelheim in case…I'm afraid something might happen!"

Still none of them would look at him. All their heads were turned away...all their eyes cast downwards…all except Shelke. Vincent hadn't really paid her any mind until she spoke. "Dr Lucrecia Crescent is –"

"WHAT'R YOU THINKING!?!" Yuffie cut her off.

Shelke looked unflinchingly at Yuffie. "He has amnesia," she stated, "I'm trying to jog his memory."

"Oh…" Yuffie said. She locked her hands behind her back and stared at a spot on the floor. They could see her face turning red.

Shelke restarted. "Dr Lucrecia Crescent fled the Shinra Mansion after the birth of her son. That was over thirty years ago."

"She fled…" Vincent turned his head away from Shelke and looked at nothing in particular. "…thirty years ago?"

"Yes," Shelke continued, "she was seeking death, but because of the Jenova Cells in her body she could not find it. As an alternative, she incased herself in pure Mako crystals."

Vincent was still looking at nothing. "What?" he whispered. It was taking a moment for the information to register…then, "WHAT!?!" He stood with such speed that Tifa had to take several steps back to keep her footing.

"That's a lie!" Vincent almost sobbed. "Lucretsia can't be…can't be…dead?"

Shelke shook her head. "Not dead. Not in the way you are thinking," she explained. "But she will never again be a part of this world."

"Nice one Shelke, that's real sensitive," Yuffie muttered.

Vincent's breathing had picked up again. Both his hand and his claw were clenched into tight fists and he looked dangerously close to either tearing Shelke apart or crying. He shut his eyes as tightly as they'd go and stood like that, breathing heavily, for a couple of minutes.

No one, not even Yuffie, had such a serious lack of wisdom as to interrupt him.

Finally Vincent calmed down enough to speak. "Who…who are you people?" he asked, "And how _the hell_ do you know about Lucretsia and the Jenova Project?"

It was Cloud's turn to answer. He quickly introduced everyone in the room. "With the exception of Shelke, we were all once members of a resistance group called AVALANCHE. You were a member as well."

With that, Cloud went into a similar explanation to the one he had given five years ago. This time he wisely forgot to mention that AVALANCHE had been fighting Shinra or that Vincent tended to transform into one of four monsters during battle. Remembering his friend's reaction the first time he heard about Sephiroth, Cloud left that name out as well. The result was a vague and choppy tale that was so silly Cloud would have been worried had Vincent not questioned it.

"You're saying everything I care about is gone?" Vincent's voice was full of disbelief. He kept his narrowed eyes on Cloud, who nodded. That was all he could do.

"So I slept in a coffin for thirty years."

Cloud nodded.

"But then you woke me up."

Cloud nodded.

"And I helped you save the world."

"Three times!" Yuffie had been busy with the kettle, but she took a moment to add in that bit.

Vincent looked at her and back to Cloud. "Three times," he added.

Cloud lowered his head. "Look, I know it's hard to believe, but-"

"You're damn right it's hard to believe!" Vincent cut him off.

During the story Vincent had sunk back into the chair. Tifa gripped his shoulder again. She was still trying to calm him down, but this time she was also trying to keep him from rising.

"Don't touch me!" he yelled at her. The sudden increase in decibels in his already powerful voice made everyone in the room jump. Tifa backed off. The last thing she wanted was to agitate him.

Vincent glared at Cloud and, with every ounce of venom he could inject, said, "Who the hell do you think you are, trying to feed me this shit?" Cloud glared back. There was the two of them locked in a glaring contest. "Your story is ridiculous! How can someone sleep for 30 years and still be alive? And I'm only in my twenties. Plus 30 years means I'm over 50 now?"

"62 actually." That was Shelke. Vincent ignored her.

"So what, I just didn't age?" Explain that!"

Cloud lowered his head, slightly embarrassed. He knew Vincent had been shot and experimented on by Hojo, but even that didn't explain the strange longevity. He glanced hopefully at Shelke. She knew more about what happened than anybody. She shook her head. Her look said she knew, but she wasn't going to say anything.

"We never really asked," Cloud answered softly.

"Unhunh…" Vincent didn't look very satisfied with that answer. "You're making me sound like some sort of vampire and you can't even give me a good explanation. You must think I'm an idiot if you expect me to fall for _that_."

Cloud didn't know what to say, so Tifa cut in. "We don't think you're an idiot, and we understand if you don't believe us."

Vincent closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and grinned. "Good," he said, "I'm glad we finally see the same picture. Now…what did you do to me?"

Cloud looked puzzled. Why should Vincent ask that? They rescued him, that's what they did.

"What do you mean?" Cloud asked.

Vincent's head rocked forward as his eyes flashed open with all their crimson fury. He slammed his claw down on the table with terrible force and scraped it towards himself. Thin curls of wood twisted up from each finger as the sharp points dug furrows in the table's surface. "I mean that!" he spat.

"We didn't-"

"Stop lying to me!" Vincent stood up with such force that the table lifted with a bang. "You did something to me! Something…I was…"

Vincent's mind was muttering to him, "Shot. You were shot," but its voice was too quiet and his rage too loud.

"…I can't remember. You did something to make me forget, but I know…" He was surrounded by a thick black and red aura, and his eyes were glowing.

Cloud cursed under his breath and braced himself for a fight. Vincent was about to transform right there in the middle of Tifa's kitchen!

Tifa was still behind Vincent. She readied her fists, contemplating striking him in the back of the head to knock him out, but she feared it wouldn't do anything except piss him off more. Instead, she gripped his gun arm and said, "Calm down," as forcefully as she could.

Vincent went rigid…

_Something had his arm…holding it down. _

_It was holding his whole body down._

_Leather…it was leather. He could feel them embracing his bare flesh. There were restraints on his arms and legs, across his chest and hips. They didn't allow him any movement._

_He kept his breathing steady –had to stay calm _

–_but he gasped at the light touch of a hand on his abdomen. He jerked, trying to get away…had to get away, but it was no use. The straps were too strong, and his body too weak…_

_So very weak…_

_The touch, instead of going away like he prayed it would, started to creep over his skin. It was prodding and pinching, exploring the muscles of his stomach and chest. _

_He tried to open his eyes…to see who it was and what they were doing, but he had being in the dark too long and the light was too bright. It burned and blinded him…he kept his eyes closed. _

_There was humming…_

_A woman's voice…._

_A voice he recognized…and hated…_

_He continued taking deep steady breaths, trying to keep his body relaxed and hide from her how afraid he was. _

_She traced the line between his abdominal muscles with her finger, and before he could figure out what was happening she pushed the cold metal of a scalpel into the flesh just below his ribs. _

_He had managed not to cry out despite the sharp bloom of pain in his midsection. He was breathing in short gasps and could feel the warmth of blood…his blood…slipping down his sides as the scalpel sliced to his navel._

_He strained with everything he had, but there wasn't much left. Still he fought the restraints and the pain, though he knew neither would relent. _

_The humming…she was still humming. _

_Just as he felt her fingers plunge into him and manipulate his organs…just as he drew in breath to scream…_

…_he realized he could move. The restraints…the humming…the wound…they were all gone. He was clothed. He was standing._

_He was afraid though. There was pressure on his arm…a hand. _

_It was her! She was still there! She was just making him think he was safe!_

_Well…he'd just have to make her pay for that…_

"Vincent? You OK?"

Vincent wasn't even breathing as far as Tifa could tell. He was so stiff that she might as well been gripping a statue. She leant forward and looked into his face. His eyes were opened slightly, but they looked glazed and unfocused. Whatever he was seeing, it wasn't in the room.

"Tifa, let him go," Shelke said. Tifa looked at her, a little confused. "Let him go," she repeated.

Before she could respond, Tifa noticed Vincent blink. She looked very closely at him. "Vincent?"

All she saw next was the flash of his claw. She let go and raised her arm to stop it from slicing her face. Before she knew it, she was slammed into the wall, her arm pinned above her head in a grip not even Barret would be able to break from.

Vincent was towering over her, his body oozing dark energy. Little motes had appeared and were swirling in red and purple around him. His face was twisted and furious and his mouth was open, his teeth bared.

"No more…" he grunted. He moved his free hand to his hip, where it was met by the comforting steel of a gun.

Tifa felt the three barrels of Cerberus press into her stomach. She met Vincent's eyes. They were glowing, pale red irises on black.

This was it.

He was about to transform…about to kill her!


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry about the delay. Harry Potter stole my life.**

**Actually I thought if I waited and came back I'd find the FFVII characters would mysteriously become mine. It didn't work.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

There was a wisp of gentle flame in the maw of the Mythril Mine as Red XIII exited. He got there early and decided to poke around inside. Nothing changed from what he remembered.

He sniffed at some debris lying around the entrance. There were broken or discarded weapons, some trash, and a few pieces of the Shera II. Nothing of interest.

Red looked up to find the WRO had caught up and their choppers were landing on a cliff higher up the mountain. Cait Sith was looking that way too. He rode his friend on the journey from Edge, but, after discovering the Mine devoid of monsters, opted to walk.

The fire lion sat down and scratched absently at the straps of the WRO backpack Reeve talked him into wearing. He had accepted it with little complaint though he severely disliked the manmade contraption. He was also wearing a specially made helmet with a camera attached to the top. Except that it squished the ends of his hair into his eyes he didn't notice it as much.

He knew how ridiculous he must look but he had eagerly accepted the humiliation in favor of going on the mission. Reeve's argument was a valid one. If all the other WRO operatives had to wear such equipment, and if he was going on a WRO mission, then he should have to wear the equipment as well. Besides, the camera would let Reeve play back anything he might see, and, as neither he nor Cait had pockets, the backpack wouldn't be entirely useless.

"Alright! Come on, there's a path near by. We've gotta get up there!" Cait's jarring accent didn't knock Red out of his thoughts as much as the little puppet's body bounding onto his shoulders. He growled and snapped playfully at his friend and then sighed. Having a fake cat on his back was just another injury to his already damaged self-image.

Still, there wasn't much more he could do now that the fight was over.

He felt bad about his grouchy temperament, but being out of the loop really bothered him.

Of course he knew Vincent was missing. He was in the search almost nonstop for the first month, but, as it went nowhere and Shelke was doing most of the work, he returned to his duties at Cosmo Canyon. Though he asked to be kept up to date, when the others finally pinpointed Vincent they took off without even letting him know. He realized that time was crucial, that they couldn't afford detours when it came to saving their friend's life. It just bothered him that he hadn't been there.

"Come on! Move!" Cait yelled, banging his soft plushy fists on Red XIII's neck.

Red grinned within his mind. If Cait wanted up the mountain, then up they would go. He stood and leaned back on his haunches, every muscle in his body tensing into place. Like fluid clockwork he released the energy, leaping in a high arc at the side of the mountain.

"Good Gracious!!" hollered the alarmed Cait as his mount sailed from rock to rock. It only took the fire lion a few minutes to reach the ledge where the choppers were landed.

The two found that the WRO personnel were standing around on a large flat cliff. There was more debris here and the men (and women) had their complicated implements out to scan the area. Unfortunately where Cloud, Cid, and even Reeve had described a large opening there was only a sheer rock wall.

The unit captain walked over and saluted. "Sir!" he said addressing Cait, "We've searched the entire area! There's nothing here!"

"Nothing yeh can see," the cat answered, giving the man a comical scowl. "'Ave yeh tried the ground radar?"

"We're just setting it up now, sir!"

Cait hopped to the ground and stood with his hands on his hips. "Then ye'll know what I mean soon enough."

"But sir!" the man pressed, "In all the history of Shinra, no one's ever heard a secret base here!"

"Well if they'd 'eard of it, it wouldn't be a secret now would it?"

Red left as Cait began explaining, for the umpteenth time, the difficult and harrowing ordeal involved in extricating Shinra's emergency weapons base from the subtext of Scarlet's files. He had no chosen direction, but merely wandered around the bustle of people.

It was a little while after the ground radar had confirmed Cait's claims that there were miles of underground structure above the Mythril Mines. Red spent his time pacing in front of the wall that stubbornly hid the entrance when he stopped with a jolt. He had placed one front paw on one specific spot and felt a subtle pulse of energy in the limb. When he raised his paw he found the pulsing stopped. There must have been some sort of power cable under the ground.

By placing the next paw directly in front of the first, he found the sensation formed a path. He crept slowly along it, careful not to lose the slight feeling, until he found an odd bit of wall blocking his path. The wall itself wasn't strange; it was the relatively rectangular rock jutting from it. He put his face closer and found that it was actually spray-painted.

Cait instantly took notice of Red nosing a spot on the cliff and rushed over. A few minutes and a thorough blowtorching later and the hidden control panel was revealed. The cat joyfully punched in a code it had doubtless taken great skill to discover.

At first it seemed nothing was going to happen. Then the noiseless rumble of machinery began to emanate from the ground. Silently a large crack appeared, outlining a section of the wall that sank back, split down the middle, and slid into either side. The aperture that was left resembled the entrance to a massive airship hanger that opened onto oblivion. Its breath was a sinister chill of subterranean air.

Immediately, and with a great flicking of lights, the WRO went into action. Groups of three ran in on their own, each chasing three ghostly yellow circles in different directions. Red made his way slowly in as the activity swelled around him. He breathed deeply through his nose, letting it take in the smells of damp rock, weapons, power cables, humans…the smells of a base. A slight prick of recognition drew him to break into a run. Cait, who had been watching him closely, leapt onto his back when he moved forward. Together, they dove deep into the mountain, following the cables that could be seen through the grated floor and an almost faded scent.

Red's mind was too focused on following his nose, but Cait's was free to notice that they had gone deeper than any of the WRO had yet made it. They took turn after turn in this vast labyrinth and Cait felt an unnerving skitter in his gears as they continued to meet nothing living. He had expected an army, or a security system. Instead here was the hollow stillness of abandonment.

Finally, Red began to slow. He could tell by the pressingly cold air that they were deep into the heart of the mountain, and the faint scent he was following was now surrounding him. He walked along, poking his head into the rooms he passed and pausing at any place where the smell got stronger.

There was a room that Red would not enter. He stood in the doorway and stared into the darkness. The smell was stronger here than anywhere else, but it was mingled with other smells that made the skin beneath his pelt feel like it wanted to crawl away. He recognized these smells too. They were the smells of surgical steel, syringes, drugs, disinfectants…fear…smells he met at the hands of Hojo. There was no way he was walking into a dark room that smelled like that.

Cait had no problem though. He hopped into the shadows and found the light-switch. What he revealed was a laboratory, or maybe a hospital examination room. There was a table with leather restraints attached and over which hung a large light. At one end of the room stood a large tunnel like machine…an MRI. At the other end stood five tall filing cabinets whose contents had been violently robbed.

Red XIII, who recovered from his unnerve, went to the few files that were left, neglected, on the floor. He poked the cover of the topmost one with a claw and flipped it open. There was an x-ray inside of a body with gold colored bones. Cait came over and picked up the file. He riffled through the sheets till he came across one that was headed "SUBJECT: Valentine."

"They were study'n 'im?" Cait murmured to himself. He picked up all the files and stuffed them into Red's backpack. "We'll look at these later."

Both of them jumped when an "OOOOOH" sound announced the main lights had been turned on. There were footsteps approaching and Red crouched, snarling, until a team of WRO operatives revealed themselves.

"I want yeh to scan this room," Cait said, "Collect everything yeh find."

He twitched his head towards the door to signal Red they were moving on. He clambered back onto his friend and they made their way into the deepest parts of the now brightly lit base.

Red walked along a final corridor that seemed to have an even coating of Vincent's scent. At the end was a heavy metal door and another normal one on the wall to the left. The metal door was slightly ajar and Red slipped in. The room was empty but for a large mirror and the painfully bright fluorescent light that had not been turned off. Instantly he was hit with a nauseating swirl of odors (sweat, tears, and something… worse) that screamed of pain and terror. There was also a hint of blood – Vincent's blood – and scents of two people. The stronger of the two was strange… a violent, bitter tang that made him think of the color crimson.

While Red stood blandly, his head turning, Cait didn't notice anything wrong. He moved around the room, examining it, and stopped at a series of five gouges in the wall. It was evident they had been made by something very strong and sharp… like a claw.

"Vincent made these," he said to the room in general. He frowned, troubled. "Did he hurt someone?"

Red shook his head, not in denial, but to clear it. "No," he said, "_They_ hurt _him_. This is were they were keeping him."

He looked at the mirror and felt a lurch in his stomach as the fear that someone was watching from behind it gripped him. He left the room and pushed open the smaller door to the left. It was dark, but not threatening. The lights flicked on as he made his way in and, turning, he found his puppet friend had followed him. There was a desk with many TV and computer monitors on it. They were all blank. This was pushed up against, not a wall, but a window into the room they had just left.

Cait turned on a computer, only to find the hard drive wiped. He checked all the disk drives, which were empty. Except for the keyboard, and a couple of scraps of paper, there was nothing else.

"What is that?" Red nodded towards something silver on the ground.

Cait followed his gaze hopefully and found a compact voice recorder. His big mitts trembling, he pushed the "play" button. It began to drone in a gruff, severe male voice.

"– _has been resisting. With the Materia we just make the suggestions, he has to choose to follow them. So far nothing we've tried works. The Subject just sits there…staring. We've resorted to torture only reluctantly as we need him undamaged. After weeks of getting nowhere, it's the only route left –_

– _Finally, a break through! I was fiddling with the Materia, trying to convince the Subject to obey it. He must have been daydreaming because I could see what looked like memories involving a woman… not see with my eyes though. When I put my hands on the Materia I could _experience_ the memory as though it were my own. What's more, I can manipulate it! I've already been experimenting and find I can force him to relive his most painful memories – _

– _I've hit a snag. I've delved deep into his darkest thoughts, and there is certainly a vast library of material to work with… What this man has been through… No, not a man. Not anymore. He's just another abomination created by Shinra, and now a weapon against them… Never mind though, my utilization of his memories has definitely gotten a positive response. For such a stoic personality, he can get extremely emotional when stimulated. He sits huddled in the corner now and weeps often. That or he just lies there, as though asleep. Yet he seems just as determined as ever to disobey – _

– _My colleague offered to take a try at the Subject and she's made more progress with him in the last week than I have in a month. I guess I just wasn't cruel enough. I watched her a couple of times, but not anymore. Not after it gave me nightmares. The things she was putting him through were… disgusting. I think she's bent on disfiguring his mind beyond repair… but no matter. We've finally begun to gain control. Encouraging me, knowing about this place, and now this. She's a regular miracle worker that Scarlet –" _


	5. Chapter 5

**Here it is at last. I must warn you though, it may be awhile before another update.**

**I still have a lot of plans for this story, but I don't know when I'll be in the mood to work on it again. So, sorry in advance.**

**In another reality FFVII and its characters might be my creations. Sadly not in this one. Oh well.**

**Hope you enjoy. **

"No more… I won't let you." Vincent was panting. Every breath felt like a gulp of boiling water, every heartbeat felt like a hammer beating broken glass into his ribcage.

The things she did to him – the violations of his body and mind – they were the only things he could remember. Everything else he ever knew was pushed aside by these horrors as he glared down at the monster that committed them. He felt a tingle of grim satisfaction as her arm trembled in the grip of his claw and her terrified eyes met his own livid ones.

And yet… He looked at those dark eyes, shiny from the tears spilling out of them. There was something about the look in them. It caused him a great deal of pain in a very secluded part of his mind. Not pain, like the agony he could so vividly recall, but something else… smaller… more piercing.

"_This is wrong,"_ that pain told him. The rest of him was screaming,_"It's a Trick!"_ He had the little bitch that did him so much wrong and he should kill her now!

"Vincent, it's me… it's Tifa," She whimpered to him. Tifa? Didn't he know that name?

"_I don't know her. It's a trick," _he thought.

"Don't do this. Please don't – ah!" She drew in a sharp breath as he tightened his grip, his claws puncturing her forearm and the gun barrel digging deeper into her gut. He pressed himself ever closer to her. She could feel a sickly feverish heat emanating from his body.

_She's begging __me__ for mercy!? How many times have _I_ begged and been denied!?!_

His body was shrieking with the excruciating ache of power coursing through it. It threatened to tear him apart if he didn't let it free, and why should he hold back?

He aimed his weapon at her liver. A bullet there and she would be guaranteed to die, but not instantly. She would go slowly, and she would feel every moment of it. It was more than she deserved…

…More than she deserved? What _did_ she deserve? To suffer, that's what. Even if the malevolent energy killed him, he would make it last… make her suffer every _ounce_ of torment she caused him. He would…

She cut off his train of thought with her pleading. There were other voices in the room, some of them yelling. But for hers, he was deaf to them all. "No… no please! I'm sorry… Please don't kill–"

Vincent couldn't help himself. He started to snigger, then broke into a grunting laugh. Tifa stopped talking and gaped at him with the tears now flowing freely from her puffy eyes. She had never heard him make more than a reserved chuckle before. A more depraved sound she could never imagine.

"Kill you?" he goaded, "No, I won't kill you… But you'll wish me to when I'm through!" As he said it he bore his claws deeper.

Tifa could feel the metal scrape her bones, but it was the gleeful, bestial grin that made her shudder. He was _savoring_ this.

No matter what Vincent transformed into, she never saw him as a demon or a monster. Not until now. Was this truly what he had become? Had_they_ completely disfigured his humanity?

She drew just enough breath to whisper a single word, "Why?"

Vincent's grin turned to a grimace. The aura surrounding the two of them burst out to envelope the whole room. Cloud cursed as he raised his good arm to protect his face from the imagined onslaught of perhaps Hell Masker or the Galian Beast. Instead he found the room unnervingly still and quiet. Vincent was still frozen over Tifa, though the haze of energy made it harder to make them out.

Cloud clenched his fists. He didn't have a sword handy, but was ready to fight until a sharp pain in his injured arm reminded him of his weakened state. If he attacked now, Vincent would just react by shooting Tifa.

"Dammit," he muttered. This was a stupid problem to have. They shouldn't have left his gun on him, shouldn't have been so careless… but this was… Vincent. There was no way this could be happening.

"Why?" Vincent finally said. "You know… you know what you've done to me… and you dare ask why?!"

"I didn't do anything to you," pleaded Tifa.

_It's a trick!_

"Don't lie!" Vincent roared. He ground Cerberus hard into her ribs.

Tifa suppressed her yelp. She screwed up her face against the fear and pain and kept eye contact with Vincent. "I'm not lying. I wouldn't lie to you!"

He screamed as some irking part of his mind chanted, _"It's a trick! It's a trick! It's a trick," _over and over.

Tifa gasped, terrified that this was it. Vincent's entire body began to tremble and tense, but he didn't make to end it. She realized he sounded like he was in agony. She looked into his face and saw it had twisted from rage to pain. "H… hey, you OK?" she asked.

"It's a trick," he just barely whispered.

Tifa continued to gaze into those tortured eyes and allowed herself to latch onto the hope that he was just as frightened as her. "A trick?" she said. Well, if he thought everything she did was a trick there'd be no point in arguing, as he'd see that as a trick as well. He thought she was deceiving him, and right now he looked terrified. It dawned on her that if he feared she was tricking him, he also feared she would hurt him.

She was Tifa Lockhart and she wasn't going to give up. Sure her lithe body and monk's training wouldn't do her much good against Vincent Valentine, but she knew this man. She knew what he was like. Finally she had some small hope, something to use.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I can't hurt you, but your hurting me," she said.

He visibly winced at that, and she was sure she heard the words, "A trick," slip between his ragged breaths.

"I guess there's no way for me to get out of this." She sighed and said, "It's alright though. You've been through so much, and it was wrong of us to underestimate that." She looked up at him and tried to smile, but she just couldn't get her tear-streaked face to do it. "You're going to kill me, and later, when you get better you'll blame yourself. I just want you to know now that this isn't your fault. It's mine. When I'm gone, I want you to remember… I forgive you."

It was as though the time in that room held its breath. Cloud and the others who were standing by had no idea what was going on. Tifa spoke so quietly that they couldn't hear what she said. All they knew was the dark aura had abruptly dissipated… no shattered, and they were now staring at what could be an archaic painting capturing the struggle between good and evil on the still canvas of eternity.

For Vincent, the moment was agony incarnate. Every ounce of instinct he had was chiding at him that this was the greatest trick of them all, that she was using his self-condemnation against him like she had done so many times before, but this was overpowered by the sudden peal of his memories. It wasn't like a flood, or the opening of a door. It was more like someone just turned on the stereo at full-blast.

"Tifa…?" he barely breathed. She finally managed to smile at him. All the heat he was pressing down on her was suddenly gone, leaving only an empty chill in its stead. He was still holding her, still tense, but the menace had left him. She looked in his eyes and saw not the glowing of the malicious monster, but the normal red of her friend

Vincent looked at the gore that was Tifa's arm. He could see his claws disappearing deep into her flesh, the warm blood pouring from the seams to trickle down and stain her housecoat and the floor. He could feel the slickness of that blood as it coated the metal of his terrible appendage.

Then he looked down to see that he had his gun nuzzled into her abdomen, aimed at her liver… aimed to kill. She too looked down, and wrapped her free hand gently around Cerberus' barrel. That was all he needed. As quickly as he pinned her, he let go and backed halfway across the room.

As soon as she was free Tifa dropped Cerberus and crumpled down the wall till she was sitting with her legs in front of her and her arm cradled to her chest. Cloud rushed over and took her in his arms as she clutched at him desperately and sobbed silently into his chest.

"Tifa," Vincent again breathed. He took a step towards her, trying to get out more. "I… I…" but he stopped abruptly when Cloud stood and took a defensive stance against him. Cloud's fists were clenched, his body tensed, and his eyes narrowed. The look he was giving Vincent was the look he would give any dangerous beast he needed fight.

Vincent met the cold eyes of his friend with desperate confusion. "Cloud… What…?" He reached his normal hand towards Cloud, then noticed that it looked all wrong. It wasn't his hand; it was the hand of Chaos. He held up his claw. It too was twisted and dark, but oh so failure. He had transformed?

He forced his body to return to normal, which, in his distraught condition, was unusually hard to do. Once he was human again he continued to stare at his hands. "What…?" He looked up at Cloud again. "What was I doing?"

Cloud didn't answer. He was relieved that Vincent was Vincent again, but he wasn't about to let his guard down. Vincent was his friend, but so was Tifa. Though it tore at his heart, his mind simplified the situation into Vincent being a threat and needing to be taken down.

Vincent didn't need Cloud to answer though. As soon as he asked what he was doing his memories answered. "Why? Why was I…?" On cue his mind caught up.

Cloud watched as Vincent's body gave way. He went from standing to being on his knees with barely a transition. His eyes widened with horror as he buried his hand and claw in his hair.

Before anyone knew what was happening he slammed his fists on the floor with a terrible force, leaving several deep cracks in the clean tiles. Then the last of his strength drained away and he slumped into a heap.

Everyone stayed like that, watching him shake with what could be silent sobbing. Tifa wasn't moving, she was almost in shock and doing too much of her own crying. Yuffie was staring dumbly, oblivious to the steaming kettle as it started to squeal. Shelke was also staring, but she looked less dumb and more blank.

It was Cloud who stirred the scene by taking a step forward and saying, "Vincent!" sharply. No response…

The blond was trembling, not from fear… no. He had already lost the prospect of having to fight his friend when he saw his expression. In the moment Vincent had looked at him, those eyes were full of an emotion that he himself knew all too well. No one should ever have to know the pain of discovering they hurt their friends…

He tensed his muscles to steady the shaking and repeated Vincent's name, softly this time. He cautiously (and painfully) crouched and said, "Hey, it's OK. We're all pretty freaked, but we'll get through this. Nothing's anyone's fault except the people who did this to you, and Reeve's almost got them now, so it's alright."

Vincent finally shifted and looked at Cloud, but his eyes were disturbingly clouded. "What happened? Why am I on the floor?"

"Vincent?" Cloud couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I was upset about… something, and she grabbed my…" he pointed at Tifa, but noticed her red, tear-streaked face, and her bloody arm. "She's hurt? What's wrong with her?" When he suddenly tried to get up, he found his body felt like it just ran a marathon without him. He would have fallen, but the strange spiky-haired man, Cloud, took his arm and helped him up. He was being led from the room, away from the frightened women, and he didn't know the house well enough to know where too. Still, he was too tired to be afraid or concerned.

Soon he found himself walking through a bedroom into a brightly lit bathroom he recognized by the mirrorless medicine cabinet. Cloud stopped and said, "You're soaked. Maybe get cleaned up, change out of those clothes and get some rest." When Vincent nodded, he added, "I'll go get you something to wear," and slipped from the room, closing the door behind him.

The first thing Vincent did was try the handle, and was relieved to find it wasn't locked from the outside. He thought of locking it, but didn't feel the need.

He stood there in the quiet and couldn't figure out why his heart had started pounding. Slowly he realized it was the lights. The bright, cold, sterile light reminded him of something he didn't care to remember, and he swiftly flicked the switch to turn them off.

The windowless room became pitch black, yet he could still see. He went over to the sink and poured some water into his cupped hands to splash on his face, but he had forgotten about the claw and dropped the water when faced with it. He also noticed that his hand didn't hurt anymore, and took the bandage off to find there wasn't even a scar left of his injuries.

Something moved in the corner of his eye, and he jumped. It was just a small hand-mirror on a shelf. He picked it up and stared at the stranger that met him. The last time he could remember looking in a mirror he had short, dark hair, fare skin, and reddish-brown eyes. Now his hair was long and wild, his skin looked like it hadn't met the sun in years, and his eyes were actually glowing with the brilliance of a red sunrise. He looked like a monster.

His heart was pounding again and he made to smash the mirror like he had the one on the cabinet, but he stopped himself and placed the thing back on the shelf. He thought for a moment and flipped it over, not wanting to startle himself later.

Vincent stripped and checked over his body. He had a few scars, souvenirs of his career choice, and there was only one he didn't recognize. It was right over his heart and it looked like a dark bruise with a bullet wound in the center. When he touched it, something pricked in the back of his mind and he quickly drew his hand away.

He slipped into the shower and stood there for a long time, his forehead against the tiles and the hot water dripping over his mop-like hair. He could hear voices arguing in the bedroom, and once the bathroom door opened and closed, but no one came in and no one bothered him. When he got out, he found a pair of black cotton pajamas had been left for him. He was so thin that they fit alright, but the arms and legs were much to short. They probably belonged to Cloud.

There was also a cup of slightly cooled tea with a note attached that said, "This'll help you sleep." Despite his extensive training against it, he gulped it down.

He sensed another presence another person nearby as he left the bathroom and staggered for the bed. He was so tired that he didn't care if it was all the enemies of Shinra in there with him. He climbed under the covers and was unconscious before he hit the pillows.

* * *

The phone rang too many times before a very groggy sounding man's voice answered. "Reeve here," he yawned.

"It's Cloud," Cloud said softly into his cell. "Sorry for calling so late, but you said you wanted to know as soon as Vincent woke up."

"Of course," Reeve suddenly fully awake. "How is he?"

Cloud took to long to answer so that Reeve started a panicked slew of questions. Cloud finally cut him off and said, "Physically he seems fine, but…"

"What? But what?"

So Cloud explained the evening's events. When he finished Reeve was silent.

At last, "How's Tifa?" Reeve cautiously asked.

"Shelke took her to the hospital for some stitches, but she'll be fine. She's… resilient."

"Good." Reeve sighed. "I can't say I'm surprised by any of this."

"Why? Did you find something?"

"CYCLOPSE has already abandoned their base. Red and Cait searched it and they found some files and voice recordings left behind… what they describe… what they did to him, and with this Materia… well, let's just say this doesn't surprise me at all," Reeve's voice matched the gravity of his words. "We have to be careful with him."

"Maybe we should bring him to the WRO," Cloud ventured. "It'll be safer."

"No," Reeve said with certainty. "It's too much like the environment they were keeping him in. I'm sure it would make him sick. He needs someplace that's more like a home, and he needs the care of friends. Please, I know it's hard after what happened but…"

"It's alright," Cloud cut him off.

"Thank you, and I'll send Cait to keep an eye on things. Should we keep this from the others?"

"They can be… intimidating, but they also worry a lot." Cloud thought for a moment. "Tell them, and make sure they know not to come here, not until he's ready."

"Alright," Reeve finished.

He was about to hang up but Cloud didn't let him. "Wait, do you have any leads?"

"…No. They're not in the Mythril Mine base anymore, that's all we know at this time."

"Could they come here?"

"Of course they could," Reeve said. "Don't worry though. Cid is sticking around for now. The Shera II needs a lot of repairs, but he assures me it can still outstrip any other airship. I also have more than half of the WRO stationed in the hills around you, including the new Chocobo Cavalry. As for finding CYCLOPSE, even Shinra's donating resources to help track them down." He sounded almost giddy as he said, "We have the Turks. There's nowhere they can hide."

"You sound sure of yourself."

"Vincent's a friend… a good friend. For what they did to him, I want to get these bastards back."


End file.
